


Grey December

by mildlyholmes



Series: The Family Potter [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyholmes/pseuds/mildlyholmes
Summary: James loses his parents.
Relationships: James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, James/Lily
Series: The Family Potter [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969438
Kudos: 11





	Grey December

**Author's Note:**

> Title was taken from 'evermore' by Taylor Swift.

As the war effort goes on, visits to the elder Potters’ become less and less frequent. It’s frustrating – James is used to seeing his parents at least once a week, and more so, if he can help it – but necessary in light of all the Order business that needs to be carried out.

Since Lily’s parents passed last year, the young couple have clung onto Monty and Euphemia, determined to spend as much time with the two as possible. It’s depressing; James had thoroughly expected Lucy and William Evans to live long beyond his mother and father, as the Muggle couple were decidedly younger and fitter. But he, being less familiar with Muggle illnesses, hadn’t counted on the fact that their lifespans were much shorter than that of wizards, and was therefore gobsmacked when William passed on from a stroke. Lucy had followed before the end of the year, unable to bear the loss, and Lily had cried for months.

The loss of Lily’s parents had drilled a determination in him to spend as much time with his parents as possible, a feat he managed to accomplish most of the time. He’d pop by for dinners with Lily or visit for a quick lunch whenever she was otherwise occupied. Even Sirius and Remus, who’d been frequenting the Potter home every summer since they started at Hogwarts, visit more often than not, but Peter, having to care for his own ailing mother, remains steadfastly absent.

Two weeks have passed – the longest James has gone without seeing his parents since graduating Hogwarts – before they manage to call on Monty and Euphemia once more. James invites Sirius and drags Remus away from his work, and Lily brings the latest edition of _The Quibbler,_ which has an amusing anecdote on Millicent Bagnold that Euphemia will certainly find hilarious.

The elder Potters greet them enthusiastically, planting kisses on all of their cheeks and ushering them towards the front garden, where sandwiches are laid out across a simple picnic bench. The meal is full of laughter and wide smiles; Monty’s always had the funniest stories to tell of all the clients he’d worked with over the years, and even Remus, who’s been sullen more often than not, is choking back tears by the end of it.

An hour into their lunch, Euphemia darts up with a sudden, “Oh! I’d almost forgotten,” and raising a perfectly manicured hand to call for their house elf, “I had something to pass to the two of you. Lopsy!”

The house elf in question rushes out to the garden, her ears flapping about. “Yes, Mistress Effie?” she squeaks out.

“Fetch the box in my bedroom, please,” his mother says pleasantly, and the house elf nods at once and hurries away.

“Two weeks away and you’ve already got us presents,” James says teasingly, leaning back against his chair. “Bribing us to visit more often?”

“Oh, hush,” Euphemia scolds him lightly, hazel eyes shining with mirth. “It’s not for you.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Tough luck, mate,” he says jokingly. “Lily’s the favourite now, remember?”

“Very true, but it’s not for Lily either, dear,” the older woman smiles.

Remus’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. “Were you speaking to us, Mrs Potter?”

“Not exactly, Remus, but that reminds me – I’d come across a book I thought you might like. Do fetch it from me before you leave today…”

Remus looks positively delighted.

It’s at that moment that Lopsy hurries back into the garden, carrying an old box that’s far too large for her in her hands. Euphemia takes the box from her, thanks her, and places it on the bench, rummaging through.

“I’d been clearing up the attic the other day, and found all your old baby clothes, James,” she informs her son, pulling out a few onesies.

Lily lets out a loud, “Aww!” and reaches for a red one. “You were so small!”

“Yes, he was rather small,” Monty chuckles. “Do you remember, dear? He was wearing the same clothes for at least three months, and his ears were so large – I worried you might have given birth to an imp –”

“That explains your slow cognitive growth, Prongs,” Remus says amusedly as Sirius snorts. “You were always a little behind, mentally.”

“Ahhh,” Lily joins in, grinning, “so _that’s_ why you thought turning my quills into toads would get me to go out with you. Explains everything.”

They all descend into laughter as James sighs, shaking his head. “I always get bullied by you lot,” he complains, but there’s a curve to his lips that gives him away.

“Oh, hush,” Euphemia scolds them, “he was a lovely boy. A little slow, at times (“Mum!” James says indignantly) but a sweetheart, all the same. Oh, don’t look at me like that, James – you used to fetch Doxy eggs for me and call them marbles.”

There is another round of laughter as James scowls at his mother.

“Anyway,” Euphemia continues once they’ve all quietened down, “we never wanted to give these away, so I thought you could use them for your little one. Merlin knows they’re collecting dust after all these years.”

James suddenly feels warm as he looks at his parents. His father, all styled grey hair and warm eyes, and his mother, with her glamorous scarf and soft smile. A surge of affection rises up in his chest and he swallows back a lump in his throat. It’s been nineteen – almost twenty – years since the novelty of his birth, and yet here they are, still keeping every little scrap of him.

He’d thought he’d known what love is, but surely what they feel for him is so much more.

“Thanks, Mum,” he says quietly, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

His mother looks at him fondly. “Of course, darling,” she smiles. “I’ve also ordered a pram to add to the mix – yours didn’t survive the years, unfortunately.”

* * *

If James had known that would be the last time he’d see his parents, he might have stayed for dinner. He might have hugged his dear old dad instead of patting him on the back, or spent more time talking to his mum about her fondest memories. He might have told them he loved them as he left instead of the casual, “See you next week!”

But he couldn’t have predicted their sudden bout of dragon pox, only a day after a visit to the Browns, who’d contracted it from their neighbours. He sends the family’s Healer over as soon as Lopsy informs them and writes to every potioneer he knows, desperate for a cure to the elusive disease. Lily herself experiments as best as she can, but nothing they send over works. He aches to see them but can’t possibly visit given how contagious the pox is, not with Lily expecting. It’s far too risky.

So they wait anxiously for Wilbert, his parents’ greying owl, to deliver letters that are growing shorter with every day that passes. James devours every word, eyes tracing over the shape of each letter, imagining their sturdy hands pressing quill into parchment. _We’re fine, dear, just a little cough_ , his mother writes, and _Please don’t worry about us, my boy – tell me about Lily and the baby!_ from his father. And when their hands are too frail to grasp a quill, he sends over his two-way mirror and spends hours watching them, his heart breaking with every weak cough. Remus and Sirius come for dinner every day, and Peter visits twice that week, and they all sit together in the small kitchen, trying to make the elder Potters laugh.

At the end of it, Monty and Euphemia last two weeks before succumbing to the disease, both passing within days of one another.

James feels as if his heart has been ripped from his chest when Lopsy, snot all over her pillowcase, delivers the news that his mother had slipped away that morning. When Monty follows three days later, he feels as cold as ice. He goes out to their back garden and sits there, letting the rain soak through his skin. Lily holds him, pressing kisses to his face in between sniffs and stroking his hair, her stomach now a small bump between them. Distantly, he remembers how ecstatic his parents had been when they’d shared the news, how ready they were to spoil the littlest Potter in the making.

The funeral is set for two days later. James stands right in front, Lily on one side and Sirius on the other, and stares hollowly at the mounds of dirt that now hold the bodies of his parents. It hits him right then that they are all orphans, the three of them, standing before the graves of the last parents they’d ever have. Tears prick his eyes, and he lets them fall.

After, Remus and Peter sort the drinks as the three of them collapse on the couch. James is still wearing his black coat, and he notices absently that Sirius and Lily haven’t made to shed theirs, either.

The two return with goblets for all of them. The firewhisky burns James’s throat and he relishes in it, taking a large gulp. Lily holds her goblet in one hand – pumpkin juice, he notices dully – and the other rests on his thigh. Her whole body trembles beside him. He takes her hand.

It’s Remus who breaks the silence first, his low, rough voice breaking through the cutting quiet.

“They were always so welcoming,” he says softly. James lifts his head to look at his old friend, sees the humourless lift of his lips. “That was what I thought of them from the beginning, James, when you’d first invited us to stay. I felt so small, visiting your big house in my father’s tattered cloak, but Monty and Effie didn’t bat an eye. And whenever I was ill at Hogwarts, your mum was always sure to send over Honeydukes’ best.”

“I always looked up to your parents,” Peter says then, and James turns to look at him. “They weren’t afraid to go after what they wanted. Everyone loved them.” He looks as if he has something else to say, but seems to decide against it and turns away, swallowing loudly.

“They were so kind to me,” Lily says next, a little unsteadily. “They welcomed me into their family with open arms. They defended me when others tried to question my blood status. They gave me advice where my parents couldn’t and took care of me when mum and dad passed on.” A beat, then quietly: “I’ll miss them very much.”

Sirius takes the longest, but takes his turn to speak as well, lifting his head to reveal red-rimmed eyes. “Monty and Effie gave me a home,” he croaks out. “They gave me a family. They took me in and treated me like their own. I’ll… I’ll forever be grateful for that.”

They are all silent after that, drinking deeply in the house his parents had bought for them. It strikes James then just how much of an impact his parents had made on his friends’ lives. It was always the Potters who’d host garden parties and invite everyone in his year; the Potters who’d write to his friends and send them Easter packages; the Potters who they’d come to for advice on politics. They were always sharing, always giving.

“They were the kindest people I knew,” he says at last. “They were my role models, they taught me what it means to be a good person.” Then, more quietly: “I miss them more than anything.”

Remus lifts his goblet, and says solemnly, “To Monty and Euphemia.” There are murmurs of “Monty and Euphemia,” as the rest drain their goblets.

Later, when his friends have left and he and Lily are alone in their bed, he scoots beneath the covers and presses a kiss to her stomach. He feels Lily’s soft fingers threading through his hair and closes his eyes.

“It’s just the three of us, now,” he whispers into the quiet of the room.

His words make her fingers pause. “Family isn’t just made of blood, James,” she finally murmurs, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “We’ll never be alone.”

Her fingers continue their stroking, sorting through the tangles in his hair, and he thinks of the potion his father had made for him. He’d never used it.


End file.
